


Christmas is in the Air

by sureimsherlock (missabigailhobbs)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:40:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missabigailhobbs/pseuds/sureimsherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Christmas-related Sherlock ficlets in a variety of pairings and situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas is in the Air

1\. **The Detective, the Doctor and the Christmas Tree**

“Sherlock, for the thousandth time, it is not ‘boring’ to buy a Christmas tree!” John insisted. “We need one, we’re having a Christmas party this year, and I refuse to have a fake tree in my flat.” “It’s my flat too,” Sherlock complained. “And it’ll get pine needles everywhere. If you want one so bad, feel free to go and get one yourself. But I’m not coming.”

John narrowed his eyes at the detective. “Yes, you /are/,” he said, pulling Sherlock up from where he was sulking on the couch in one strong pull. Sherlock’s momentum overcame him and he stumbled forward a few steps, glaring at John. John couldn’t help the small snicker that escaped him.

“Right then. Since you’re up, we might as well go,” he said innocently. Sherlock stared at him a long moment before stomping off to his room to get a pair of shoes. He returned a few moments later and pulled on his scarf, glove, and coat. “Fine,” he snapped. “But this entire expedition is on you,” he said, pointing at John. He wouldn’t be covering the taxi fee like he normally did when they rode together. Oh no, if John wanted a Christmas tree so bloody badly he’d be paying for it himself. John rolled his eyes and pulled on his own coat, walking downstairs and opening the door.

Of course he’d cover the taxi; he’d always had that in mind. He was secretly very excited that he’d managed to get Sherlock to come with him. The detective never seemed very enthused about Christmas, and it would be good to get him out of the house. He hadn’t had a case in quite a while and he was starting to get a bit manic, at the shooting at walls level. Getting out of the house would do him some good.

Sherlock was broody for the whole taxi ride to the Christmas tree lot, but even he had to smile when they got out of the cab and breathed in the pine-scented crisp air. The lot was warmly lit by white Christmas lights, lending a homey atmosphere that Sherlock couldn’t help but love. He looked over at John with a smile and the doctor returned it happily. He hadn’t been sure how Sherlock was going to take this, and was pleased to see him so happy.

They walked around the lot for maybe twenty minutes before both of them saw it: the perfect tree. Their flat wasn’t very big, so they were looking for a tree on the smaller side, and not too plump. This one was absolutely perfect: on the shorter side, and full, without being overly wide. They turned to each other and grinned. “That one,” they said together.

They walked over to the station where there was a big netting machine and a saw for trimming down the tree and bagging it up to go home. John instructed one of them employees to make a fresh cut for the tree so it would soak up water better and then put it in the netting. He bit his lip suddenly. He hadn’t considered how they were going to get it home, and then up the seventeen stairs to their walk up flat. He was just considering whether or not cabs would let them tie a Christmas tree to the roof when Mike Stamford appeared. “John!” he said, eagerly joining the two. “What brings you here?”

John stared at him for a moment. Sometimes Mike could be stunning dull. Sherlock had an odd affection for him; that was probably the only reason he ever put up with him. “Sherlock and I are buying a Christmas tree,” he said slowly, like Mike was either stupid or hard of hearing. “For the flat,” he elaborated.

“Ah, yes,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Well. That’s nice, then.” He turned to go, but then turned back. “How are you guys getting home? Most cabs won’t take that tree you know.” Sherlock snorted, his cynicism returning for a moment. That had been one of his arguments when they were debating coming at all earlier today. “I believe I mentioned that, John.”

John glared at his flatmate for a moment before turning back to Mike. “I don’t know quite yet,” he confessed. “Do you have any suggestions?” “Well sure,” he said. “I borrowed a truck from my brother. He lives in the country, you know,” he added, smiling at John.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, exasperated. For some reason, he had a bit more patience for Mike’s stupidity than he did for most other people, but it was quickly growing thin. Mike smiled obliviously at them. “I’d be happy to let you guys borrow the truck. I’ve got to stop by a friend’s, but just park the truck outside your flat and I’ll come pick it up later.”

John and Sherlock turned to each other and shrugged. “Sure, Mike, thanks,” he said, pleased that that was at least one thing taken care of. While they had been talking, one of the employees had been packaging up their tree, and it was all bound up and ready to go. Mike handed over the keys to his brother’s truck and the two flatmates and the employee from the lot strapped the tree to the car and they drove home in companionable silence.

Later, as they sat in front of the crackling fire with their tree propped in the corner, John smirked a bit to himself. He’d managed to get the great Sherlock Holmes excited about buying a Christmas tree. He considered that a major achievement. “What are you grinning about?” Sherlock asked suspiciously. “Nothing,” he said. “Merry Christmas, Sherlock.” Sherlock’s expression softened a bit and he even managed to smile at John. “Merry Christmas.”

2\. **Murder and A Christmas Story**

“I’m booooored!” Jim yelled at Sebastian one day as they lounged around the flat. They’d done all the murder and mayhem they needed to for today and the criminal wasn’t taking it well. “Entertain me, Sebby,” he demanded.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. He had to deal with his boss and boyfriend’s mood swings and childish behaviour on a regular basis, but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it. “Why don’t we watch a movie?” he suggested. “It’s nearly Christmas, we can watch a Christmas movie if you want.”

Jim snorted. “I was rather hoping for a blowjob, but I’ll settle for a film, yes,” he said dramatically, rising and pulling Seb up to standing so he could hug him. “I love you, tiger,” he murmured into Seb’s chest. The sniper smiled fondly at the little criminal that he loved being so cute and affectionate. It was a rare treat, to be honest. “Okay,” he said, pulling Jim into his arms and nuzzling against him. “How about... ‘A Christmas Story?’ It was always one of my favourites when I was a kid.”

Jim smiled indulgently. “Sure, love,” he said, giggling a bit to himself when Seb lifted him all the way off the ground, bridal-style. “Sounds good. Put me down on yonder sofa, noble steed,” he said in a fake English accent, pointing theatrically at the sofa.

Sebastian laughed. “Sir, yes, sir,” he said seriously, carrying Jim the few steps to their sofa and settling him down with a soft kiss to the forehead. He turned and pulled the movie from their stack of DVD’s by the TV. He put it into the player and snatched up the remote, snuggling next to his kitten and dropping a gentle kiss into his hair.

Moran hated previews, so he skipped right through them, pressing the ‘menu’ button and bringing up the film in seconds. He always said he didn’t have time to waste watching hints at things he wouldn’t even bother to see anyway. He settled in and smiled when the familiar movie began to play, watching Jim’s face instead of the screen. He knew every line by heart in any case. He was much more interested in how Jim would react.

Jim looked a bit sceptical at first, but the film was funny, the dialogue witty and he began to smile. He kissed Sebastian’s arm while keeping his eyes locked on the screen. He hadn’t had the kind of childhood where he could just sit around watching Christmas movies during the holidays, so he kind of had to make up for it now. He smiled throughout the whole film, curled close with his arms wrapped around Seb’s waist, resting against him.

Sebastian’s grin only widened, and as the credits rolled, he kissed Jim’s head again. “What did you think of the film, kitten?” he murmured, hoping Jim would have liked it. “I loved it, tiger,” he replied very quietly. He sat up a little, shaking his head as if to clear it and turning to Sebastian. “That was wonderful,” he said softly. “Absolutely perfect.”

The fearless sniper beamed like a child on their birthday when Jim said that he’d liked it. “I’m so glad,” he said heartily, gathering Jim up into his lap and kissing him on the lips this time, slow and deep. “I’m so glad we can share this,” he whispered against the criminal’s lips. “Me too, tiger,” he murmured, nuzzling his head under Sebastian’s chin.

“Me too, darling. Merry Christmas,” he added spontaneously. Sebastian blinked at the sudden change of subject. “Merry Christmas to you too, boss,” he said. “My boss, my kitten, my love.” Jim grinned at that and cuddled into him. It was going to be a very good year, he thought sleepily as he started to drift off, held safely in the sniper’s arms.

3\. **In The Spirit**

Mrs Hudson absolutely adored decorating for Christmas. But she hadn’t had the stamina to do it in years. The cold always made her bad hip flare up and creak, keeping her on the couch. But John had agreed to help her this year, and she couldn’t be more excited.

“Do you want to put this up?” he asked her, holding up a long strand of silver and green tinsel. “Oh yes, please,” she said happily. “Just above the door, dear, right there,” she added, pointing and handing him the little container of push pins. John walked over with the footstool, tinsel, and pins in hand, attaching the tinsel in a draping fashion over the door.

He stepped back and made sure it was even, smiling at his handiwork. “Oh, it looks lovely dear, thank you,” she said, smiling at how festive her flat looked now. She sat back, a pleased smile on her face. It hadn’t been this cheerful in here in years, not since her husband lost his mind and beat her, since her hip surgery, since any of the less than pleasant things that had happened in dear Mrs Hudson’s life.

She patted the couch next to her, inviting John to come and sit with her for a moment, take a break. Under her direction, John had been working for over two hours, and she figured he must be tired.

Blowing out a long breath, John sat down on the couch next to her, smiling at the landlady. He looked around, grinning at how celebratory the little room looked. It had taken him a while, but he’d gotten all of the decorations up and it looked wonderful. He took a small sip of the tea she’d made earlier, sighing happily and settling in. “It looks lovely, John, thank you,” she said sincerely, handing him a large tin of homemade biscuits, all sorts, for Sherlock as well. Poor dear looked like a stick. “Merry Christmas,” she said, releasing him from further duty. “Merry Christmas, Mrs Hudson,” he said, smiling and taking the tin. He went back to 221B and smiled, happy. He took a biscuit and grinned. Good old Mrs Hudson. Decorating for her was the least he could do.


End file.
